‘I guess,’ Louise answered, managing only the briefest of hesitations for Miss Manners’ sake. ‘I mean, if we’re dating, I guess a kiss is…’ She didn’t get to finish because he was across the sofa in a second, wrapping his arms around her, holding her, his hand lifting her face to his.
‘I’ve missed you,’ he said, and maybe they weren’t the three little words she’d always longed to hear him say, but they were three words that mirrored her own feelings. ‘Can we try and make this work?’
‘It’s not that simple,’ Louise croaked.
‘Can’t it be?’
Could it?
She dared to look at him—dared because if she was right, if the tension, the arousal she could feel in the heavy air she was trying to drag into her lungs was there in her eyes, then she knew she’d be lost again.
And she was.
The irises of his eyes were practically obliterated by dilated pupils—two dark pools that she fell into. His lips moved towards her trembling mouth and hushed it with the softest, gentlest, most tender of kisses, that beautiful, arrogant mouth softer now as it found hers, the breeze of his breath on her face as he closed in. A tiny nervous swallow, her throat tight, her body kindled with arousal, and as his lips met hers, the soft feel of his flesh on her mouth, the mingling of their breath, in his arms was the only place on earth she wanted to be, because his touch obliterated confusion—like the sun coming from behind a cloud, it dazzled her, blinded her to everything except the one truth that mattered at this moment.
She’d missed him so.
Missed this.
Missed the feelings of not just a man holding her but this man, his kiss almost chaste in its depth, as if just the contact was enough for him now, her eyes closing for the delicious seconds it lasted, a tiny grumble of protest welling within her as after a brief moment he pulled away.
‘Is that slow enough?’ His voice was low and husky, his breath warm on her cheek, his arms still holding her. She felt herself unravel in his arms, felt the knot of tension that permanently held her together slowly start to come undone.
‘Maybe a bit too slow.’
He was kissing her again, his mouth more pressing this time, his tongue sliding between her softly parted lips, his hand gently but definitely pushing into the small of her back. It was as if he were touching her epicentre, rousing into life the lust that had lain dormant for so long now, stirring her desire with every skilful move of his tongue then wickedly pulling back, leaving it to Louise to make the next move.
‘Way, way too slow,’ Louise whispered, dangerously, provocatively, because, yes, there was so much to say, so, very, very much to say, but right now none of it mattered, none of it even computed, because his eyes were holding hers now, staring into her as if he was looking at her very soul, adoring her as only Daniel could.
God, she’d missed him, had missed the masculine scent of him, the cool, faint-making taste of him, the way his mouth caressed hers, the way his toned hard body pressed against hers, holding her in all the right places, his touch, his caress blissfully familiar and all the more intoxicating for it.
‘Oh, Louise.’ His mouth had left hers now, saying her name over and over as if he needed to hear it, moving across her face, his chin scratching, pulling at the soft skin on her cheek, one hand slipping behind her neck, under the soft curtain of her hair. He held her face steady as he devoured her, kissing her eyes, her temples, butterfly kisses that were hot with passion, and she reciprocated with submission, let her head rest in the cradle of his hand, her whole body singing a response as her ardour was inflamed.
His mouth moved down to the hollow of her throat, working the pulse spots that leapt against the moist, hard wedge of his circling tongue. Giddily she succumbed, her want as utterly as loaded as his because nothing he could do to her could be too quick or too soon, because she’d been waiting for this for ever. His free hand pulled at the belt of her robe and he did the strangest thing—but to her it made beautiful sense. He didn’t pull away, didn’t ravish her with his eyes. Instead, he folded her tighter into his space, gathered her to him till every wanton inch of her body was pressed against his—all of it. Hot, greedy kisses on her shoulder, Daniel pushed the robe further down, her breasts pressing into him, the cold buckle of his belt pressing into her stomach. But that wasn’t what she needed, and she wriggled on the sofa till the glorious hard length of him rubbed against her heated spot, heavy denim straining to contain him. Her greedy hands tugged at his zip, wanting to free him, desperate for him to take her, right there—anywhere—it didn’t matter. She just wanted that most intimate piece of him inside her.
‘Steady…’ With supreme control he slowed things down, pulling back just enough to halt the abandonment, but his resistance was futile, his eyes taking in her aroused, feminine shape, and Louise knew that to him she was beautiful, heard his thick moan of desire as he moved away just enough to glimpse her.
And no sexy underwear was required, because he was pulling at the fabric, freeing one ripe swollen breast and tasting her with his hot mouth, claiming her breasts as his again. Impatient fingers tore at her knickers and a tiny beat of fear gripped her, not at him—never at him.
But at her own body.
‘I haven’t since I had…’ She didn’t finish, yet immediately he understood. There was no need to finish a sentence because when they were together like this they were completely in tune—more one person than two.
‘Neither have I, since I had surgery…’ He smiled wickedly down at her, slowly, sensually, intimately—that smile that she could never explain to anyone, that smile that she knew was reserved solely for her.
‘I’ll be very gentle,’ Louise whispered with a grin—because he brought out that side in her, bought out the funniest, sexiest, most wanton part of her. And as they drifted into the bedroom Louise knew it was going to be magical.
Knew because it was Daniel.
They’d always been at their closest when intimate, which sounded like a given—but it was so much more than that.
His passion for her was utterly unreserved—his love-making completely without inhibition—almost as if it was the one way he could truly express what he was feeling for her, make up for his emotional asceticism.
Sex his apology.
And over and over she had accepted it—because he made her dizzy with want.
Any trepidation was gone as he took off her robe, laid her on the bed and joined her, kissing her more tenderly now, allowing Louise to dictate the speed. She took the pleasure of taking her time—slowly undressing him, pulling off his jumper and welcoming back to her vision the body she had missed so.
The lean muscular lines of his torso, the clean, fragrant scent that was always him, he didn’t even have to touch her to arouse her—it was Louise’s turn now. Louise’s turn to kneel astride him, to taste the nutmeg-coloured nipples. His hands in her hair, holding her as she worked sensually down, teasingly, slowly undoing the buckle of his belt, sliding down his zipper and pushing the last of his clothing down over his slender hips. And thankfully he helped with the last bit, because Louise was transfixed—her mind, her hands, her lips completely absorbed with the beautiful task in hand.
‘Ouch!’ Louise whispered as her fingers stroked the shaved area from his operation, then teasingly stroking the black silken curls as he grew in her hand. Bending her head, slowly, slowly, she kissed it all better, his moans of approval arousing her more, his hands in her hair intimately guiding her. If she could somehow have captured a moment and lived it for ever, this would be the one—this guarded, inaccessible man, letting her in, letting her hold him, lick him, taste him, calling her name while she adored him as only a lover could. And hearing his pleasure, feeling it with her mouth, was perhaps the best foreplay of all, because by the time he gently turned her and laid her down beneath him she was so deliciously moist, so heavy with want that fear didn’t enter her mind—just a delicious rush as he entered a fraction, an overwhelming gratitud
e for the tenderness he displayed as he moved slowly within her, teasing her with playful, shallow stabs till it was Louise asking for more, her head thrashing on the pillow, calves lifting to his buttocks, lips begging him to go deeper. And he responded. How he responded!
His body slid against hers as he thrusted inside her, his mouth everywhere, hers tasting the salt of his skin, drowning in the delicious confusion of every sense being indulged. Nothing could have prolonged this moment. Her whole body was tightening as he delved deeper, his breathing more rapid now, delicious involuntary movements that yielded a heady rush as they reached glorious oblivion together.
‘Oh, my.’ Louise was lying in Daniel’s arms, experiencing the first real moments of peace she had known in over a year, his fingers idly stroking her face as the world came back into focus. ‘I thought having a baby was supposed to affect your sex life!’
‘It has.’ Daniel grinned at her. ‘Spectacularly!’ He bent his head and kissed each breast in turn. ‘And these are fantastic.’
She let out a shocked laugh—adoring, adoring this side of him and so happy to welcome it back, loving the intimacy not just of the love-making but that dreamy time afterwards, when nothing could shatter the moment.
Except the bleep of his pager.
Groaning at the familiar intrusion, Louise flicked on the side light as Daniel, gloriously naked and utterly bold, strode around the room, searching for his jeans and locating his pager. He pressed the speed dial on his mobile as Louise blinked at her alarm clock, surprised to see it was only nine-thirty.
‘Elaine, what are you doing, still working?’ His question was pure politeness, given that the night staff should be the ones ringing now, but something inside Louise twisted as he spoke to her. ‘Yep, thanks for letting me know. Tell Luke to page me if he’s at all concerned—otherwise I’ll be there within the hour.
‘No,’ he answered carefully, as Elaine apparently asked him again to meet them at the pub. ‘I’m actually quite busy.’
‘Mrs Bennett,’ Daniel explained, putting down the telephone. ‘Her pain’s getting worse.’
‘Are you going in?’
‘Luke is,’ Daniel answered. ‘But I told Elaine to let me know if she didn’t settle tonight.’ Elaine had probably thrown a handful of drawing pins into the woman’s bed to ensure she didn’t settle, Louise thought nastily, then instantly regretted it. ‘I don’t think I should wait for Luke.’ Daniel gave a regretful shrug. ‘I’d rather check her myself.’ Which was so him—he just couldn’t delegate.
‘Do you want a coffee,’ Louise offered, ‘before you go in?’
‘I’m fine.’
Not quite as bold as Daniel, she wrapped the sheet around herself and hobbled across the room to her dressing-gown, the insecurities that had plagued her earlier starting to come back now as she tried to drop the sheet, pull on her robe and somehow not display an inch of flesh.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ Daniel smiled, clearly bemused by her sudden modesty, but Louise ignored it, tying the belt of her robe and wishing she could have back just a tenth of the confidence she’d found in his arms. ‘I’ll go and check Mrs Bennett and then, if it’s not too late, I’ll come back.’ He was pulling on his shoes, buckling his belt and looking absolutely divine.
‘Are you sure about the coffee?’ Louise checked as he stood up to go. ‘I’ve got some decent stuff!’ And it was the most incredibly childish and petulant thing to say, but embarrassment and insecurity were a dangerous combination and even though instantly she regretted saying it, once out there was no taking the words back.
‘Sorry?’ He gave a frown of confusion then started to laugh. ‘You’re not talking about the other day with Elaine are you? I had a coffee with her, for goodness’ sake!’
‘She was flirting.’
‘So?’ She could hear his irritation. ‘It doesn’t mean that I was.’
‘I know.’ Raking a hand through her tousled hair, Louise tried to shrug it off, grateful when Declan, disturbed by a combination of phones, pagers and a hungry tummy, let out a telling wail.
Nice one, Louise! Berating herself, she padded down the hallway, furious with herself for being so petty yet knowing deep down what the problem was.
Petty was all they would ever be until she dealt with the real issue; knowing that this attempt at a relationship was pointless if it wasn’t based on truth.
The real truth.
Pushing open Maggie’s bedroom door, Louise stared at the tiny guy in his crib, watched his little face creasing in exasperation, his fists flailing as he blindly sought comfort.
And Declan wasn’t the only one.
Picking him up, Louise buried her face in his soft, hair, felt the wetness of his cheek against hers, and knew she couldn’t do it, couldn’t deny her son his father, couldn’t pretend that there wasn’t a whole lot more between them than passion. Maybe now was the time to tell him. Now, when he had to go to the hospital, had time to digest the news before he reacted…
‘Is he OK?’
Daniel was standing there in the semi-darkness, his profile silhouetted by the tiny nightlight Louise kept on. He came over and stared down at the babe nestling in her arms, making tiny snuffling noises, his hungry lips searching for comfort. Louise’s eyes were doing the same, watching Daniel’s unreadable expression for some reaction, some recognition, her voice shaky and tentative when finally it came.
‘Daniel, there’s something I need to tell you…’
Don’t do this, Louise!
Daniel didn’t say it, but his head was screaming it, warning her with his eyes to, please, not go there.
‘He needs to be fed.’ How he tried to keep his voice steady, light even, to pretend somehow that he hadn’t heard her words. ‘And I really ought to get to the hospital.’
‘Daniel, please, there’s something you really need to know.’
Please, don’t do this!
It was the one thing he couldn’t take—he didn’t want to hear her lie to him, to try to fob him off with a story that he knew could never, ever be true.
‘I’m trying to tell you something, Daniel!’
‘Maybe I don’t want to hear it.’ His voice came out way too sharp and he struggled to right it. ‘Look, I’m sorry you were upset about Elaine.’ He was giving her an out again, trying to give her some time to think before she spoke, before she ruined things for ever.
‘I’m not talking about Elaine! I’m talking about your son!’
‘Louise, don’t!’ This time he did say it, the words shooting out like pistols, firing warning shots that she still ignored.
‘What do you mean, don’t?’ Still she gnawed away, heaping lie upon lie, tears streaming down her cheeks, and if Daniel hadn’t known that what she was implying couldn’t possibly be true then he’d have believed her—her pain, her tears so convincing that for a moment he wavered, told himself that maybe she really did believe that Declan was his. ‘You act as if you’ve no idea,’ Louise rasped, every word angering him more, that she could look him in the eye and so blatantly lie. ‘You’re a doctor, for God’s sake, do the maths! Did it never enter your head that Declan might be yours?’
‘I’ll tell you what entered my head…’ Daniel struggled to keep his voice down, wrestled with a barrage of conflicting emotions, because even if she was lying, she was standing there, tousled and beautiful from their love-making, a tiny baby in her arms, holding to her breast the one thing he couldn’t give her. ‘That I’d be there for you, that I’d support you and that in time maybe I’d love him as my own.’ He couldn’t bring himself to look at the infant, couldn’t allow himself to glimpse the dream that for him was never meant to be. ‘And then you do this. My God, you have the temerity to question me over a cup of coffee with a colleague when you rolled out of my bed and into his.’
‘His?’ He saw a flash of anger in her eyes, the rigid motions of her body as she put the baby down in his cot and followed him to her bedroom, the bedroom where such a short
while ago they’d found each other, demanding he explain as he dressed with lightning speed. ‘There’s never been anyone else since you.’
‘Liar,’ Daniel roared, letting out a bit of the anger he’d been keeping in now there was a wall between the baby and them. He picked up his keys and stormed down the hallway, but she grabbed the arm of his jumper as he wrenched open the door.
‘There never was anyone else—my lousy taste in men was solely reserved for you!’ She was pulling at his clothes, so utterly taut with rage that for a second Daniel thought she might slap him, couldn’t quite believe that they were reduced to this.
‘It’s the twenty-first century, for heaven’s sake Louise. You can’t just choose who you think will make the better father. You can’t just decide to pass him off as mine. There are tests…’
‘Never!’ He watched as the spitfire that had raged suddenly spluttered and died, the rasping tears replaced by shocked silence, her angry red face paling at his words. ‘I’ll never put him through a test.’
‘Because you might not like the result?’ Daniel sneered, and this time he pulled the door open unhindered, stepped out into the night air with bile rising in his throat.
‘Because I don’t need any proof.’ His whole body stiffened as she called out into the darkness. ‘And because I don’t need you.’
It had been the most vile of vile confrontations and hearing the door slam for a second he wished he was stupid, wished he was one of those guys who could just take it without question, could believe her in the face of such appalling odds. His head was pounding, the rotten, filthy taste in his mouth was building as over and over he replayed the poisonous scene in his mind until, leaning against a tree, he threw up, too devastated to be embarrassed as an old man walking his dog tut-tutted as he wandered past.
‘Bloody drunks,’ the old man called out.
‘I bloody wish,’ Daniel murmured, as his pager shrilled in his pocket.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘SORRY.’
Slipping into a chair, Louise grimaced as she arrived a full fifteen minutes late for handover. ‘Declan took for ever to settle, and…’ Her voice trailed off. She’d already caused enough disturbance without telling the whole room about Declan’s restless night, the difficult morning she’d had feeding and dressing him and his tears when she’d left him at the crèche.
The Surgeon's Miracle Baby Page 9
